


Handle With Care

by She5los



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Also heads up this story deals with trauma but mostly in a vague way, Also why does he not have a title yet???, Gen, He's been Noct's friend for like a decade and is still untitled??????????????, Hurt/Comfort, It's a fucking outrage they didn't get him any training before that, Kidnapping, This starts three years before the game, We see how Prompto reacts to what happened to him but we don't see violence being inflicted on him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 11:32:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11439993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/She5los/pseuds/She5los
Summary: When Prompto gets kidnapped, his friends know they'll need to step up and support him as soon as they get him back.





	Handle With Care

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to the wonderful Kaciart and their heartbreaking kidnapped!Prompto picture. http://kaciart.tumblr.com/post/162211510268

  1. Noctis



Something was up.  He understood Prompto not answering his texts before noon (he wouldn’t have been out of bed before one if he hadn’t had a breakfast with the Galahdian Triad and their heirs who were all at least three years younger than him), but not answering until two?  Shenanigans.  So he gave Prom a call.

Prompto not picking up was fishy enough for Noctis to get suspicious.  He knew it was a kidnapping when he got a call back two minutes later from Prompto’s phone, but the voice was someone he’d never met, demanding money in return for Prompto’s safe return.  By the time he and Gladio had reached his dad’s office, he was shaking.

“Noctis.  Goodness, sit down,” Clarus said.  “Gladio, is he quite well?”

“I need to talk to my dad,” Noct told him.  He did sit.  It was better than falling over.  Gladio shut the door behind him.  “Prompto’s been kidnapped.  I know he has me on his phone under my own name.  Here.”  His hands were shaking, but he knew everything that happened on his phone got recorded.  He was the only one who knew his access code off the top of his head.  He punched it in and handed the phone to Clarus.  “It’s the most recent one.”

Clarus listened to the short exchange.  Noctis knew he would have believed him anyway; when he got mad, he snapped at people and got rude, but he’d never outright lied about things, especially something this big.

Clarus sighed and pulled a chair up so he could hold Noct’s hand.  “Alright.  These sorts of things do happen.  It’s going to be alright.  What kinds of training does he have?”

Noct shut his eyes tight.  None.  The answer, the real answer, was none.  The only reason Noctis had any at all was to keep him safe from assassins; everyone kept saying Prompto was too young to have that kind of thing pushed on him.  Just let him be a civilian a little longer, Iggy’d said.  “I taught him some combat drills.  Nothing that’d help him.”  Just enough to say they were exercising when they were really chatting.

A gentle, solid hand took hold of his shoulder.  Clarus’ hand felt so much like the king’s.  “You mustn’t blame yourself for any of this, Noctis.  I’ll handle it.  That’s the entire point of upgrading your friends’ phones.  I’ll get the Kingsglaive on the case and we’ll have him located in minutes, and home by dinner tomorrow.”

Noctis nodded.  There was nothing else to do.  Clarus told Gladio to get him a glass of water, and one was pushed into his hand.  Gladio quietly told him to sip it slowly, and that helped marginally.

There was a quiet, precise knock at the door.  That would be Iggy.  Clarus answered it.  “Good afternoon, Lord Amicitia,” Iggy said in his Polite Court Voice, “Is Noctis here?  You know how GPS goes a bit wonky in the Citadel.”  It was because of all the hidden passages that weren’t charted on the official map, but everyone who knew about them just pretended it was old paint that interfered with cell signals, or something like that.  Noctis let out a sob.  “Oh, dear, it seems he is.  Noctis, whatever is the matter?  We have a soiree before dinner; you need to be dressed.”

“Shut up,” Noct said through his puffy tears and puffy face and shitty feelings.

“Prompto was kidnapped,” Gladio said, staying formal like he was giving a report.  Like the fact that it was Prompto meant nothing.  “My dad’s handling it.  Get Noct out of all his events tonight.”

“Consider it done,” Iggy replied.  His voice was all business.  Noctis heard him sit, heard all the sounds his phone made as he flipped between his scheduling app and his assortment of messaging apps.  He even called one or two people, and smiled and laughed like it was a minor inconvenience and not the world falling apart.

“Has anyone contacted his parents?” Iggy asked, finally.  His voice was so different when he was talking to them.  He didn’t even pretend to smile.  Noctis stared at him, not entirely sure he remembered what a facial expression _was,_ much less how to make one.  Gladio shook his head.

“I’ll handle that,” Clarus interceded.  “They should hear from the person in charge.  You’ve all done exactly what needed to be done, now go get some rest.  Watch a movie or do something that takes your minds off it.  I’ve already alerted a small group of Kingsglaives and we’ve located his phone.  They’re discussing strategies for approaching the building.  This truly will be handled, and he will be returned to you.  Go rest.”

All three of them slunk off.  Noctis was almost seventeen.  Gladio was a legal adult, and Iggy barely had months to go before he was twenty, as well.  They were more competent than most people two or three times their ages.  Even Iggy, who kept his back straight and his head high, had the same air of being excluded and talked down to.

Noct just wanted Prompto to be okay.

 

  1. Gladio



The trio sat together on a curb well out of sight of the warehouse the phone had been traced to.  Kingsglaive forces had surrounded the building (Gladio wanted it to be him, desperately wanted it, but he could never leave Noct’s side at a time like this) and they all huddled around the radio Gladio’s dad had finally allowed them.  They heard each terse order and response that made up the operation’s communication.  There were minutes at a time that were totally blank, and if he didn’t know better, Gladio would have guessed that none of the three of them breathed during those gaps.

Finally, a voice came through, loud and clear: “Both targets secured.  Building secured.  Argentum’s alive and well, sir.”  But Gladio could hear yelling in the background.

Someone else said, “He’s not cooperating, sir,” and let his radio continue transmitting as a voice that was definitely Prompto’s yelled and yelled.

“Who the fuck are you?  --What, and you just expect me to believe the fucking _Kingsglaive_ gives half an actual shit what happens to me?  --No, I won’t—FUCK FUCK STOP DON’T SHIVA GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME WHERE ARE YOU MOVING ME TO?????”

Noct held the radio up and pushed the transmission button.  “Prom, this’s Noctis,” he said.  “It’s real.  We’re here for you.  Go with them.”

There was a long period of silence and then another not-Prompto voice said, “He thinks it’s a voice manip.  Please advise.”

Gladio sighed and took the radio.  Pushed the button.  “This is Gladio.  He’ll recognize me.  I’ll be there in a few.  Please confirm the building’s secure.”

He led the other two to the base of the building as the team leader responded that the building was still secure.  He left Noctis with two Kingsglaives and strode into the warehouse.  Prompto was safe.  He just had to be convinced he was safe.  He knew Gladio, and he’d go with him, and then he could start to recover.

He knew where to go from all the chatter.  They were leaving Prompto alone, more or less, now that it was exceedingly clear he wouldn’t let them lay a finger on him, but they were still asking him questions and he responded so bitterly, it didn’t even sound like Prompto anymore.

Finally, Gladio rounded the corner so he was in sight.  Prompto was wearing a high school gym t-shirt, running shorts, and those disgustingly bright green running shoes he loved.  Not nearly enough clothes for this weather; Gladio was in a sweatshirt.  He did a double-take when he saw Gladio and then burst into tears.  “Hey, I gotcha,” Gladio said quietly, and rushed forward to give the kid a damn hug.  “I gotcha.  It’s real.  Noct and Iggy are right outside.  They’re waiting for you.  You’re alright.”  He tried to keep both his words and his tone soothing.  Prompto, apparently, had worn himself out screaming at the Kingsglaives because it was only a couple minutes before he was calm enough for Gladio to pick him up.  He didn’t even object, or say it was weird, or try to pull away.  He just leaned into Gladio’s shoulder and let himself cry some more.

Gladio carried the kid out of the building.  He figured Prompto had been living the all-adrenaline-all-the-time show for about the past 27-31 hours, depending on when he’d been taken.  He had a bruise on his face where he’d probably been hit, and his clothes probably hid several more.  He didn’t seem to have any serious injuries, though, thank Shiva.

When Gladio maneuvered them out of the building, Prompto started talking again.  “Oh—Um- Mmh!”  He twisted in Gladio’s grip, obviously reaching toward Noctis.

Noct, for his part, ran up to them.  “Prom!”  Prompto leaned almost out of Gladio’s grip so he and Noct could hug and the waterworks started all over again.  “I’m so glad you’re safe, Prom.  They didn’t hurt you?”

“Nah.  I’m… I’m fine.”

Noct’s eyes opened and flicked up to Gladio’s face, questioning.  Gladio shook his head.  Prompto was absolutely not fine, but it also wasn’t something that could be measured in physical damage.  They already had the royal physician _and_ a Kingsglaive trauma specialist on site, so that would be plenty for now.

“I’m gonna put you down, okay?” Gladio asked.  Noct nodded and pulled back.  Prompto only nodded when they weren’t touching anymore.  Gladio lowered his legs, made sure his feet were solidly on the ground, and just… didn’t let go of him.  He wouldn’t want Prompto to go weak from shock and fall over in front of so many people.

“Prompto,” Iggy cut in, his voice as gentle as Iggy’s voice ever was, “I’m trying to call your parents and having some trouble.  Do either of them have alternate numbers?”

“They probably didn’t even notice he was gone,” Noct said, hugging Prompto close.  It was harsh, but from what Gladio had gathered over the years, probably true.  Leaving without notice on a Saturday morning and staying gone through Sunday?  That was par for the course when your parents never came home and you could be gaming with your best friend at his apartment.

“They might’ve,” Prompto said.  He blushed red.  Gladio was always amazed at how quickly Prompto’s face could change color.  “They took me from my apartment.  There are chairs and things all over.  I think I broke the coffee table.”  His voice was starting to break.  Noct hugged him tighter while he cried.

The doctor and the trauma specialist interrupted and each took a good look at him and asked him lots of questions about what had happened.  He was cleared by the doctor first, with instructions to take some anti-inflammatories for the bruising.  The trauma specialist put a blanket around his shoulders and had Gladio take him to a place where he could sit down.  It wasn’t long before they were all able to go back to the Citadel.  Noctis had already declared that he wouldn’t let Prompto go back to his empty apartment to have nightmares.

They got into a car.  Gladio knew he was considered “too close to the situation,” and they didn’t want to pressure him to perform under this kind of stress, but getting Kingsglaive guards now that everything was winding down was some bullshit.  Not bullshit he’d vocally object to in front of anyone who could change it, but still bullshit.

In the car, Noctis put an arm around Prompto and they leaned against each other, Prompto crying every so-often.  Iggy tapped away at his tablet.  Gladio peered over and saw he was arranging with the head of Facilities to take a handyman to Prompto’s apartment and help him clean up after they got back to the Citadel.

Iggy made a call, and made the impatient face that meant he was waiting for a voicemail message, lips pressed tight together and eyes looking up.  Finally, he smiled his phone smile and said, “Good morning, this is Count Ignis Scientia, royal advisor and chancellor to His Highness, Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum.  I’m calling on behalf of His Highness as well as your student, Prompto Argentum.  They won’t be coming in Monday the eleventh due to some recent traumatic events.  Please call me back.”  He left his number and hung up, and smiled gently at Prompto, saying, “There, now you won’t have to worry yourself about school tomorrow.  Are there any other obligations you have on Sunday or Monday that’ll need a call?  A medical or dental appointment, perhaps?  A haircut?”  Prompto shook his head.  “Excellent.  You’re being very helpful, Prompto.  I’ll just keep trying to reach your parents, and when we return, I’m taking a maintenance professional with me to clean up your apartment.  Noctis, what I need you to do is run him a hot bath and get some dinner into him.”

“Already planning to,” Noct confirmed.  “We’re gonna watch fun movies and play videogames.”

“Perfect.  Oh, and Gladio, no talking to the prisoners until you’re capable of making a face that doesn’t look like _that._   You’ll punch a wall and bring the whole palace down.”

Gladio’s lips twitched up.  “Thanks for all the concern,” he said.

“Well.  One has to have concern for an entire palace full of people as well as one’s friends, doesn’t one?”

Gladio covered his smile with his hand.  “You take care of yourself, too.  I know you didn’t sleep enough last night.”

Iggy rolled his eyes.  “I don’t sleep enough most nights.  And you know I have difficulty resting with things unresolved.  I’ll clean the apartment and then I’ll feel better.  I can watch some B-movies with all of you or read a nice book.”

Noct started pitching movie ideas.  Gladio kept an eye on Prompto while he drifted through all the security on the way back to Noct’s room in the palace, but it seemed like he was doing a little better now that he was safe.

 

  1. Iggy



Iggy had known about Prompto’s home situation for years.  It was part of why he allowed the gratuitous number of sleepovers (Prompto more or less lived with Noctis for a solid month at one point, but he’d been in frequent-enough contact with his parents) and why he let Prompto ask him for the kind of advice a parent would normally give.  (The kind of advice Iggy went to his uncle for.)  But now, seeing those four instances of “Called father, left message.  Called mother, left message.” on the case file, he had to wonder if he’d misjudged the extent of the Argentums’ negligence when it came to their son.  He’d hoped he would arrive at the apartment to find something that would challenge all of his current assumptions, but he didn’t really expect it.

Instead, he had found a note on the kitchen counter:

            P—

            I’m not cleaning this up.  Your party, your responsibility!

            -Mom

His heart had hardened when he read that, and he decided to stay at the Argentum residence until one or both parents came home.  He sent the handyman home once the room was clean and the damage repaired, and helped himself to a glass of water.

 _Where are you?_ Gladio texted him around six.  _Noct’s starting to worry._

Iggy considered.  They could all easily track each other’s phones, but he was willing to bet Noctis wouldn’t care to double-check if someone he trusted gave him an answer.  _I have some unfinished business.  Tell them I’m in my room with a book of poetry._

_10-4_

He’d shifted from work-related emails to social media by the time the door opened.  He checked his watch.  It was well after 11.  He sat up and pretended to yawn and stretch.

“Prommy?  That you?” a woman asked in Gralean.

“Mrs. Argentum?” Ignis asked, as if he was a shy friend of her son’s and not the personal advisor of the Crown Prince.

“Who is that?”  Mrs. Argentum asked in Lucian.  She kicked her shoes off and turned on another light.  “Have I met you?”

“Oh.  Count Ignis Scientia,” Iggy said, standing up and going to shake her hand.  “I’m sorry it’s late.  I wouldn’t have stayed, only I knew you must have been worried sick.”  For some reason, people always believed him when he acted bashful and airheaded.  He supposed he just had a face that lent itself well to that particular act.  “I wanted you to know that we found Prompto and he’s at the Citadel right now.  We’re taking very good care of him.  We just didn’t want him to spend the night alone after everything.”

“…I’m sorry?”  Mrs. Argentum put her purse down on a chair.  “After what ‘happened’?  What do you mean?  Is he hurt?”

Iggy covered his mouth delicately with a gloved hand.  “Oh, you don’t—I’m so sorry, Mrs. Argentum, I just assumed—Lord Amicitia said he’d contact you and your husband, and I know how important he thinks family is, so I just thought he’d reached you.”  Gladio always called this part ‘creepy,’ when he calculated every word to extract just exactly the feeling he wanted.  In this case, guilt.  “I was in such a state, even after we recovered him, that I guess I didn’t think to check.  I did come to help clean the apartment, though.  I didn’t want anything here that would remind him of the kidnapping.”

“Kidnapping!”  Mrs. Argentum’s eyes all but bugged out of their sockets.  She leaned on a chair and then let Iggy help her sit down.  “Prompto—You mean he was—I thought he’d had a house party!”

“We did try to call you,” Iggy reminded her.  “But we’ve got him back!  So it’s alright.  No need to worry at this point.”  She was only missing her son’s entire life.  “You can come visit him, but we do intend to keep him at the Citadel for a few days, just because it’s so safe and we want to make certain he has friends around.”

“I’m so sorry, Mr… Scientia, you said?”  Iggy nodded.  “Sorry if I’m overreacting.”  He could hear her beginning to cry.  “I’ve just… I was on my feet for about eighteen hours today.  It’s a lot to take in.”  …Oh.  “You’re really sure he’s alright, though?  He isn’t just saying that?  Because, if you know him, you know he never complains, even when there’s something worth complaining about.”

Iggy finally spared a thought for her, took in the state she was in.  She did, indeed, look like she’d been working hideously long hours.  Her hair was frizzy and her makeup had gone greasy, and her eyes had deep bags under them.  Iggy was used to unconcerned parents being self-interested and frivolous, not so overworked they forgot to check their phones.  He had maybe overdone it a little on the guilt tripping.

He sat down cat-corner from her at the table and dropped the act completely.  “I need to apologize,” he told her.  “I haven’t been entirely truthful.  I did check to see if you’d been reached.  When I came here and saw your note, I thought you were the same sort of self-interested leech that so many people in the Citadel are, so I’m afraid I got a bit carried away trying to make you feel guilty.”  Her hands were on the table, so he put his own hands over them.  “Prompto was kidnapped yesterday morning and rescued this afternoon.  He was very shaken, but Noctis and his Shield are with him and, last I heard, they’d planned a quiet night in with some movies and videogames to ensure nothing got out of hand.  Hopefully, he’s asleep by now, but if you could send him a reassuring text, he positively lights up when he hears from you.”

Prompto’s mother nodded.  “I’ll tell his father.  It must be late for you; it’s getting toward midnight.  Will you be safe, going through the city alone?”

“Perfectly.  I’ll be driving.  You would do well to have something to eat; Prompto’s entirely well and sleeping soundly in the heart of the Citadel in a room with two guards stationed outside.  If he should have a nightmare, his dearest friend is lying next to him.  And he’ll wake to find a text from his mother, who loves him dearly, will he not?”

Mrs. Argentum smiled softly and sluggishly dug her phone out of her handbag.  She spent a couple minutes writing a text.  “There we go.  Thank you so much for taking care of him, Mr. Scientia.”

“How could we do anything less for such a charming young man?” Iggy asked.  He gave her hands a friendly squeeze and stood up.  “You rest; I’ll see myself out.  I apologize again for our misunderstanding; I only wanted to ensure Prompto would be treated with the kindness he deserved upon his return, and I can see he will.”  He nodded to her and slipped his shoes on, grabbed his messenger bag, and walked out.

 

  1. Prompto



He woke up for the third time at 8:30 and figured that was late enough that no one would blame him for staying awake (and not risking more nightmares, Shiva did he want to avoid those) or even getting up.  Maybe he could go for a run; he had his good shoes with him.  They were lucky green.

The more he thought about getting into running clothes again, the more it seemed impossible to get out of bed on his own.  Maybe he could go running with somebody else.  Just for right now.

Noct murmured something indistinct next to him.  Whatever he did, Noctis would be in bed until noon (unless he had something important to do, but he—) Oh, fuck, it was Monday.  Iggy had told Prompto not to worry about school.  Did that count for Noctis, as well?  King Regis was so strict about making sure Noct got a normal education and didn’t just skip out because he could.  Were they letting Noct sleep in because they didn’t want to wake Prompto?  He would have welcomed it if someone had interrupted one of his nightmares.

He got out of bed because all the decisions about whether he or Noctis was going to school had already been made, anyway.  He wandered into the parlor outside Noct’s bedroom.  Gladio was sitting on the couch, playing on his phone.  Prompto coughed gently to get his attention.

“Hey, how was your sleep?” Gladio asked, keeping his voice down.

“Really bad.  I, um…  Actually, no, never mind, this is silly.  I shouldn’t ask.  Sorry.”

“Prompto,” Gladio said, and Prompto could hear the smile in his voice, like he was a joke, like his nervousness was a joke, “You didn’t even ask anything.”

“Sorry.”

“What were you gonna ask about?  Doesn’t hurt to ask.  I can always say no.”

The world was moving too fast around him, but he smiled and said, “I just wanted to know if you wanted to go for a run with me.  But what are even the chances that we like to run at the same speed?  Sorry.  It was dumb.”

“I’d like to.”  What?  “Let me go upstairs and get some better running clothes on.  You borrow Noct’s things; you’re close enough to the same size.”

“Actually, I think I just want to stay in.”  He didn’t know what he wanted.  Maybe he just didn’t want to feel like people were being extra nice to him.  Last night, they’d had beet soup and Noctis had barely complained.

Gladio smiled and said, “C’mon, sit over here,” and patted the couch next to him.  Prompto went and sat, and Gladio put an arm around his shoulders.  “There you go.  Nice and cozy."

Now Prompto could see that the thing Gladio was paying so much attention to on his phone was a conversation with Ignis.

 **I:** …afraid I didn’t ask so much as take them.  Did he notice?

 **G:** Not that he said.

 **G:** I feel like he would’ve spoken up if he’d noticed his keys missing.

 **I:** And yet.

 **G:** Lol yeah

 **I:** Well, he’ll have them back today.

 **I:** I certainly have no further use for them.

 **G:** He’s up

That was the end of the conversation so far, but Iggy was already typing.

 **I:** How does he seem?

 **G:** Skittish af.  Took back an invitation to go running together before he’d even asked.

 **I:** Perhaps those Niflheimian meat pies he likes for breakfast?  N doesn’t even object to those.

 **G:** On it.

He opened a different app that seemed to be something to do with scheduling and Prompto closed his eyes and curled up into Gladio’s chest.  He wasn’t supposed to see this part.  He wasn’t supposed to notice all the coordination it took to be this nice to him.  Prompto was “him” and Noctis had to be “N” and they were going to have hand pies because Prompto sought them out at every street fair and festival they managed to worm their way into.

“You don’t have to do all that,” Prompto said.  Almost whispered.  Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything.  Maybe Gladio didn’t hear him.

“Sure we do.”  Gladio’s arm tightened securely around him.  “You’re our friend, aren’t you?  This is what you do for your friends.  You’ve got a little PTSD, so we’re making things a little nicer for you.  I was also wondering if you’d like to learn some self-defense once you feel like yourself again.”

“They kept asking me about military strategy.”  Prompto didn’t know why that, of all things, was what came out of his mouth.  He couldn’t have given them any information, even if he’d wanted to, which was good because his kidnappers had ensured that he really, really did want to.  “They wanted to know our plans for the front lines and air strikes.”

Gladio didn’t say anything for a long moment.  Too long.  Prompto was certain he was going to recognize him for the liability he was and tell him not to hang around Noctis anymore.

“It sounds terrible,” Gladio said quietly.  Seriously.  Like Prompto wasn’t just the prince’s ridiculous friend he went slumming with, but an equal.  “I won’t push you for details, but I won’t stop you from sharing them, either.  Does that sound alright?”

Prompto nodded.  That was fair, right?  That was respectful.  Prom could just never say another word again, ever, about any of it, and he could smile and laugh and make them all forget to worry about him, and it would be fine.  His eyes felt hot and his throat was swelling up and he turned his face against the side of Gladio’s pec so Gladio wouldn’t see him cry.

Gladio didn’t say anything, or move to hug him better, or even push him away.  He just kept his arm around Prompto and let him cry it out.

When Prompto’d started quieting down (stopped making such a nuisance of himself; gods, he was seventeen and acting like a child) Gladio said, “Noct gets weepy, too.  Tears are good; they flush out some of your stress hormones.  I know how it is, when it’s like it’s too dangerous to let yourself be scared and you only feel it after.”  He took a deep breath and let it out, and Prompto felt it because his face was buried against Gladio’s ribcage.  “I’m glad you feel safe enough here to have all your feelings, even though I know it’s hard.”

Prompto shrugged.  “Sorry I’m being such a wimp about this.”  It wasn’t like he’d even been hurt.  Not really.  He had a couple small bruises that were already yellowing. It was the memories that hurt: hands yanking him around by the hair, all that time being blindfolded, the time they threw a bucket of water at him in the middle of the night in the hope that the cold and exhaustion would make him talk even though nothing else had.

He felt like he was going to throw up.

“You’re not.”  Gladio put his phone down and ran his now-free hand through Prompto’s hair.  Prompto flinched and the hand was removed immediately, to gently rub his shoulder.  “They meant to make you afraid.  They meant to hurt you.  It’s only natural to get upset.  All I was saying was that people show they’re upset in different ways, and some people take longer before they feel comfortable enough to let go and do all the acting out they need to.  If you’re crying now, it means you’re starting to process it, and as much as that feels shitty, it’s really a good thing.”

Prompto just shook his head and said, “Nah, I’m just… crying over nothing.  They didn’t even hurt me, really.  Not really.”  A fresh wave of tears came and overwhelmed him as he tried to think of something more reassuring to say about how Gladio shouldn’t worry about a couple little bruises.

Gladio’s arm tightened around him.  “Doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice seeming extra deep somehow.  “I know how scared you were when we found you.  I know you were so relieved to see a familiar face, you started sobbing.  You don’t need physical proof of that kind of hurt.  Your feelings are more than enough proof.”

Prompto shrugged.  Maybe not saying anything was the trick to getting Gladio to drop it.

 

  1. Cor



Cor Leonis was a man who did his best to keep his nose in his own business.  As far as he was concerned, court life was petty and depressing, and he tried to avoid courtiers as much as possible, even when he had to stay at the Citadel for weeks at a time.  He wasn’t unobservant, and he did notice the things – a handkerchief with the wrong initials, a copycat hairstyle, an unusual buttonhole – that threw the Lucian court into flurries of gossip (as if there was nothing better to do with a war on), but he couldn’t bring himself to care who was fucking who or who had and hadn’t been invited to a party.

The blonde kid wandering the halls and doing his homework on a bench outside the Council chamber was definitely someone he noticed.

He’d only seen the kid a couple times.  Cor was pretty sure he was a friend of the prince, but he’d never seen him in the Crownsguard training yards like Noctis’ other two attendants.  It was only normal for the people around royalty to receive titles and combat training, and this kid had neither.

He couldn’t say he was surprised when he heard a quiet “Um, excuse me” from the doorway of his office and looked up to see that kid.  As far as Cor could tell, he’d been more or less camping out in the Citadel for a week, going home infrequently, if ever.  He had the look of someone with a fresh trauma who didn’t know how to talk about it, and Cor guessed there was something at home he was afraid of returning to.  The kid had probably been there for an attempt on Noctis’ life, since that was the kind of thing the Kingsglaive always took over and made classified before you could blink.

Cor tried a small smile.  “Yeah?  What can I help you with?”

The kid pulled an envelope out and walked forward to put it on Cor’s desk.  “Well, I, um.  I’m His Highness, Prince Noctis’ friend, and some things happened recently, and Shield Gladiolus Amicitia said I should start training with the Crownsguard, so I can learn some self-defense.  He gave me this so you’ll know I’m not just joining out of the blue.”

The envelope said, in flowing script:

_To: Capt. Cor Leonis_

_From: Shield Gladiolus Amicitia_

_Re: Letter of Introduction for Prompto Argentum_

Well, Argentum sure did have all his bases covered.  A letter was a little excessive, but definitely a friendly gesture.  It was the kind of court bullshit Cor couldn’t bring himself to care about.  Argentum was overdue for some self-defense lessons, and the Crownsguard could easily provide them.  If Cor knew Amicitia, though – and he was pretty sure he knew that kid as well as he knew Clarus – he wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble of writing a formal letter of introduction just to quell some teenager’s fears that Cor would say no.

Cor picked the letter up and opened it.

 _Dear Cor,_ the flowing script continued,

_I’m sure you’ve seen Prompto around the Citadel.  Whether or not you’ve heard that he was kidnapped and tortured recently depends on whether certain Kingsglaives know how to keep their mouths shut.  Please make sure no one touches his head and be patient if he needs to step out for a minute._

_Prompto is Prince Noctis’ best friend, so anything that happens during training has a chance of being discussed with the prince, myself, and Ignis.  Not because he’s a tattletale, but because that’s what his social circle looks like.  Knowing you, I’m sure it will be much more good than bad._

_When I said it was you he’d be delivering this letter to, Prompto’s face absolutely lit up.  After confirming that I hadn’t misspoken somehow, he kept saying “I’m going to meet Cor Leonis” at various volumes to everyone around him as well as the room in general.  I think it’s safe to say your reputation is still alive and well, but more importantly, please be very mindful of how strong an effect your praise and criticism have on him.  I know I can trust you to be discreet about Prompto’s needs as he recovers.  He’s very silly and sometimes has a hard time paying attention, but he’s also very genuine and kind.  Of course, I would prefer if you could oversee his training yourself, but I have no delusions about how busy you are and certainly wouldn’t object to you sending him into a Basic Training course for the combat training sections, as long as you ensured the overseeing sergeant knew what to be careful of.  I’m sure you’ll figure something out that gets him the peace of mind he needs._

_Thank you,_

_Gladiolus Amicitia_

_Shield of Crown Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum_

_P.S. Dad says, “Ask him if he’s coming to dinner Saturday or if he’s still holing himself up in the Crownsguard barracks for no reason.”  He also says to check your email “more than once a month.”_

Cor re-folded the letter and returned it to its opened envelope.  That was one hell of a letter of introduction.  It seemed to skip past the introduction part almost entirely.  “Well, then, it seems like everything’s in order,” he said.  He opened his desk planner and looked through his meetings.  “Can you do Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays at two PM?”

“Oh.  I… have school…”

Right.  “Same days, four to five?”  That’d be a fantastic way to duck out of real work at four and actually get himself away from his office at a reasonable time.

Prompto smiled, and Cor saw what Gladio had been trying to say in his letter.  It was like the whole room had gotten brighter.  “Yeah.  I can do that.”

“Would you like an introductory session right now?”  As if Argentum was going to say anything but yes.

He nodded with an enthusiasm Cor never saw from the exhausted Basic Training kids.  “If it isn’t any trouble.”

Cor smirked.  “You’re giving me an excuse to get away from my desk and you think it’s some kind of inconvenience?”  He couldn’t say he was excited to give newbie lessons, but he got the feeling it was what his prince wanted, despite Amicitia not saying so in the letter.  All that stuff about Argentum admiring him had sort of suggested that taking his training on personally would be the best course of action.

He led the way to a small practice room.  It seemed better than trying to find a quiet corner of the main training hall, if Argentum was as shaky as Gladio said he was.  “We can stretch while we talk about what you want,” he offered, trying to keep things casual.  He definitely didn’t want to intimidate the kid.

All Argentum gave him was a nod and a quiet noise of agreement, but he couldn’t tell if the shyness was because he was meeting his hero or if it was because he was thinking about whatever had happened.

“The way I see it, there are two ways to do this,” Cor said as he stretched his hamstrings.  “I can give you a general lesson, which will be helpful and informative and, most of all, impersonal.  Or we can talk about how you were attacked and I can show you how to get away in that situation.  It’s your choice.”

“Can I think about it for a minute?” Prompto asked, pulling his foot up behind him to stretch his quad.

“Take your time.”  No, the obnoxious voice in Cor’s head said.  He was going to force a teenager to make a difficult and terrifying decision on a moment’s notice and never let him change it.  _That_ would help him heal.

They were more or less ready to start by the time Prompto broke the silence and asked, “If we do the personal one, could I tell you to stop any time?”

“Yep.”  Cor had handled plenty of people who just needed him to act like things were normal.  He’d gotten decently good at it.  He’d had plenty of people ask him, genuinely unknowing, whether he was ready to respect the most basic possible boundaries.  Things generally went more smoothly when he acted like those were regular questions and not horrifying glimpses into the world they’d been living in recently.  “That the one you want to try first?”

“I think so.”  Somehow, the kid looked scrawnier standing on a blue mat than he did in Cor’s office.  He was so small, definitely smaller than the prince.  Who the fuck had thought it was okay to leave his safety to chance?

Cor took a deep breath and asked, “Where were you when they got you?”

There was no change in Argentum’s face as he said, “I was at home.  I’d just gotten back from a run.  There was a knock on the door, and I answered it because I’m not a suspicious person.  No one ever told me to be, I guess.  As soon as the door was open, they pushed their way inside – two people – and I kept trying to get away and failing.”  He said it like a recitation.  How many people had he had to give this story to?  “Anyway, they tied me up and put a bag over my head and I think they put me in a janitor’s cart because it smelled like window cleaner and stuff.  I did get a couple hits on them, but I was just… y’know, just sort of flailing.”  He tried to smile and shrug it off, but he looked deeply upset.

“Well, it’s never happening again,” Cor told him with the certainty the kid clearly needed.  It wasn’t something he could actually promise, but it was what Argentum needed someone to tell him.  Fact was, you could be the best fighter in the world and still get overwhelmed by the wrong people or make an unfortunate misstep.  But some self-defense training would certainly still help, and give the kid some control over more situations.

They talked about how the kidnappers had grabbed Prompto, what sort of grip they’d used, where they’d tried to take hold of him.  Cor showed him techniques for getting free from every single one, as well as catch-all pain points, like stomping on feet or digging your fingernail under someone else’s thumbnail or pulling one of their fingers back.  He asked questions about what Argentum’s apartment building looked like.  It was one of the old, dingy high-rises in the Niflheim District, as far as Cor could tell, so he said, “When they let go of you – when you _make_ them let go of you – what you need to do is head right out the door.  You go to the nearest staircase and go down as fast as you can.  Get to somewhere with people.  Practically no one’s gonna grab you out of a crowded street in the middle of the day.  Hide if you can, but having people around who can identify them is gonna make any kidnapper nervous.”

“Safety in groups.  Got it.”  Cor had been looking at the same pretend smile for the last half-hour.  Despite choosing to take down his own fears, Argentum was incredibly wary about opening up in any meaningful way.  Cor knew from personal experience how important it was to let people heal in whatever way they chose, but it did seem a little odd.  Argentum’s expression was perfectly designed to say everything was alright, he wasn’t upset in any way, and he could even make light of his worries.  His actions, from asking for a more intense self-defense course to the way he kept flinching and then trying to pretend he hadn’t, said the exact opposite.  “Could we do the shoulder grab again?”

“Yeah, of course.  You ready?”

The kid nodded, still smiling pleasantly.  Cor reached out, ready for the little twitch when he put his hand on Argentum’s shoulder.  He grasped on firmly and Argentum twisted out of his grip, ducking under his arm and— …and clutching with a rock-hard grip the instant Cor’s forearm brushed over his hair.

He let go and Cor staggered out of the grip.  His arm had been twisted behind his back, after all.  He turned around to see how Argentum was doing, and he looked pretty not-okay.  His face was pale and his hands clenched and unclenched as he seemed to try to figure out what to do with them.  The first word out of his mouth, before Cor could say or do anything, was “Sorry,” as he tried to plaster that smile back on, and then, “It won’t happen again.”  He finger-combed his hair.  “Shoulder grab.  Right.  Uh… maybe do it slower?”

Cor stared and hoped he didn’t look too horrified.  Argentum’s fingertips drummed against his legs, nervously looking for something to do.  He kept shifting his weight and realigning his whole body.  Everything about him looked like a meltdown waiting to happen.  “I think we should take a break,” Cor told him.  He wasn’t about to keep teaching someone on the verge of having a panic attack.

“Did I hurt you?” Argentum asked.  There was an urgent edge to his voice that wasn’t there before.  “I’ll try not to do that again.  I don’t know what I—”

“I’m alright,” Cor told him with practiced calm.  He pushed his sleeve up past his elbow and held his arm out.  “No harm done.  It was only a little surprise.  Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Argentum told him.  He looked like he was doing his level best not to look terrified.  “Really.  I can keep going.”

…Yeah, that was absolutely not going to happen.  “I’d feel better if we took a break.”  This could go two basic ways.  The more likely way, it seemed to Cor, was that Argentum broke down and had his panic attack, and probably yelled or whined or cried.  The less likely way was for him to have a quiet breakdown where he just needed to lie down for a few minutes and breathe deeply and not talk about it.  It was technically possible for Argentum to pull himself together and have no panic attack at all, but Cor didn’t think that was realistic.

“I’m alright,” Prompto asserted again.  “I’m fine.  I’m… not quite better yet, but I’m working on it.”  He stared intently at the blue mats under their feet.  His eyes were starting to well up.  Cor stood calmly and didn’t interrupt.  “Nobody ever believes me when I say I’m okay.  I just want someone to trust me.”  He sat down, which was probably a good idea.  He was undeniably crying at that point.

Cor sat to face him.  “I have a very important question for you, and I need you to tell me the truth,” he said.  He was 99% sure this was the right thing to do.  Gladio was young, but he wouldn’t have asked for Cor, specifically, if he didn’t trust him to help with this particular kid’s problems, right?

Argentum nodded.  Sniffled.  Fuck, seeing the kid in tears tugged hard at Cor’s heartstrings, and he’d only known him for half an hour.  No wonder Noct and his advisors were making sure Argentum got the best possible care.

“When you say you’re alright, are you being absolutely, one hundred percent honest?”  The kid was flighty as anything, but they wouldn’t get anywhere if he was going to keep denying that he still felt the effects of whatever had been done to him.

Argentum kept staring at a very particular point on the floor between them.  He thought for a moment before he sniffled and said, “Well, I can’t, can I?”  He looked up, his eyes still overflowing.  “Or they win.  They’ve succeeded.”  He drew in a shaky breath.  “Gladio said it’s okay to be scared because they were trying to scare me, but it feels like the opposite.”  He sniffled a couple times, looking down again.  “Sorry.  I have—they gave me a therapist.  I should talk to him about this.  Stop bugging people.   You’re the Immortal; you don’t want to hear about it.”  His shoulders hunched in and he made himself as small as someone his size ever could.

Only Gladio would give such good advice to exactly the wrong person.  Cor would have to talk to him about that.  In the meantime, the kid was still curled up in an anxious knot.  “You want to know the best way to feel safe again?  You’re gonna hate this, but I’ve seen it and I’ve done it and I swear to the Tide Mother, it works.”

Argentum nodded without lifting his head.  “I just want to feel normal again.”

“You have to tell your friends when you feel bad.”  The hardest thing to do, but recovery was never easy.  “The thing that helps is having people around you who listen to you and respect what you need, and you won’t get that when you’re sending out all these mixed signals.  You need to stand up for yourself and say, ‘I feel fucking terrible and you can help by paying attention to me.’  Usually, people’s friends are happy they know what they can do to help.”

“But if I—if they did make me scared, like they meant to…”  He shuddered.  And still looked way too fucking small.

“Then you’re still living your life worrying about how they feel.  Maybe, instead, you live your life thinking about how _you_ feel and never think about them again.  Sounds a lot nicer to me.”  There wasn’t a single Niflheim soldier who gave two shits whether Cor slept soundly at night.  He’d learned a long time ago that it was up to him, and only him, to cover over the worst of it and forget about it.  He knew he would have ignored it, but he still wished someone had told him decades ago, at the start of his service, that there was nothing on any former battlefield that would give him as much peace as the dinners Clarus threw for his fellows in the Crownsguard, or walking through a park on a beautiful day.  Revisiting the past never helped.

Argentum nodded.  Cor doubted the kid trusted his advice any more than he trusted Gladio’s advice, but at least he could put the idea in the kid’s head.

“Hey, you like taking pictures, right?” He thought he remembered seeing the kid with a real camera in his hand.

Argentum nodded again.  “Yeah.  I, um.  I want to be a photographer.”  He said it the same bashful way most people talked about the hobbies they really loved.  More importantly, he was distracted.

“There’s a nice dahlia garden on the palace grounds.  It’s in bloom now if you want to go for a walk.”  At the very least, he could be stressed in a beautiful garden instead of a dull training room that smelled like gym socks and sports drinks.  Cor stood and offered his hand.

Argentum sniffled and nodded, and stood up.  “Yeah.  I’d like that.  Do they smell like anything?”

“Not usually, but you can always hope.”  Cor opened the door and held it until Argentum had gone through.  He thought he remembered hearing something about camera settings when he’d passed Noct and his friend in the halls once, so he asked, “How do you take the best nature pictures?  Or, what setting do you use to make them turn out well?”

Argentum’s face lit up.  He was still a little tearful, but as he described camera settings and moved on to talk about lenses, he got more and more animated and steady.  It seemed like a good start.

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many, MANY thanks to Selador for beta-ing and providing excellent suggestions when I kept writing myself into a rut! Please check out her works at http://archiveofourown.org/users/Selador


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